To Shine Through the Dark
by nicalyse
Summary: Mike finds a way for Quinn to have her favorite childhood Christmas tradition again. One-shot.


Of all the girls that Mike has ever dated, Quinn is the one who seems the most comfortable spending time with his parents. She says it's because she grew up in a household just as formal as his can be. "The difference is that your parents are actually very kind people who ultimately just want to see you happy," she told him once. "It's easier with your parents than it is with mine."

Anyhow, Quinn comes with him back to Lima to have dinner with his parents the way he does every second Sunday of the month. This is the third consecutive month that she's come with him, and it feels like it means something.

His mom gets to talking about the trip that she and Mike's dad are taking to China in December, during Christmas, to see some of the relatives that they haven't had a chance to see since the last time they were in China over ten years ago. (Mike was in middle school when they took that trip, and he went along. It's actually still one of the best things he's ever gotten to do.) His mom brings up a couple of the things that they do every year that won't be happening this year, and how it's going to be strange, but she isn't planning on putting up the Christmas tree at the beginning of December like she usually does. "It seems silly to go to all the trouble when we aren't even going to be in the country," she says sensibly. She's right, Mike knows, but it does seem strange, thinking of Christmas without the enormous tree that goes up in the formal living room every year. The whole season is probably going to be kind of weird. It's going to be the first Christmas of his life that he hasn't spent the day with his parents.

He glances over at Quinn on the drive back to Cincinnati, sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV with her legs pulled up into the seat and crossed Indian-style. Talking about his extended family and the holidays with his parents during dinner got him thinking.

"Tell me about your Christmas traditions."

Quinn doesn't say anything for a second. "It was my favorite when I was growing up," she says quietly. "It was always really...extravagant. The decorations and the presents and the dinner. After Beth..."

The way she trails off makes him look over at her again. Her hands are folded in her laps, and she's looking straight ahead, though he can tell that she isn't really looking at the highway in front of the car.

"Once my parents got divorced," she goes on after a moment, correcting herself, "things weren't ever the same. I don't know what my dad does, but my sister and her husband have their own Christmas with their kids, and my mom and I had a couple of awkward years before I went to school and we stopped pretending that Christmas is really anything other than a normal day."

Quinn is different than she was in high school, when she was icy and aloof and kept everyone at arm's length (more to protect herself than anything, he knows). Being away from Lima, he thinks, made all the difference in the world, and he could tell that she'd changed when he ran into her in Whole Foods in Cincinnati a little over a year ago. He didn't even know that she was in the city; he lost track of her after graduation, just like a lot of other people he'd once considered his closest friends. She's never going to be an open book or the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, but she isn't nearly as closed off as she once was.

But right now? She looks and sounds an awful lot like her seventeen-year-old self hiding behind the walls she built instead of the woman he's gotten to know over the last year, the girl he's fallen in love with.

"My favorite part was always going to church on Christmas Eve," she says, looking over at him and smiling softly. Her voice is back to normal, without that far away, distracted tone she had just a second ago. "When I was little, we went to the living nativity, but even then, I liked the service better. They did it by candlelight, and every year I was completely blown away by how beautiful the sanctuary looked like that, with just the candles."

He understands what she means; everything is more beautiful in candlelight.

"We always got to open one present on Christmas Eve, and it was always new pajamas that we wore that night," she goes on. "My mom made spritz cookies every year with her grandmother's press, and we each got to have one before bed."

"Did you do the cookies for Santa thing?" Mike asks.

She's smiling when she says, "No. I just said my prayers and then tried to fall asleep like every other kid."

He reaches across the console to take her hand. "That's really sweet." She laces her fingers through his and brushes her thumb lightly over the skin between his thumb and the back of his hand the way he loves. "What do you do now?" They were friends last Christmas, but they weren't together yet, and he can't remember her talking about her holiday plans at all.

"I don't really have any traditions yet," she admits. "Last year, I went back to Lima and my mom and I spent the day watching Christmas movies. The year before that, I stayed in the city and spent part of the day at the children's hospital."

He squeezes her hand, pressing his palm right against hers. "I think you need to start some new traditions," he tells her.

"I guess I probably should," she agrees.

Mike is already making plans.

* * *

><p>They decide to spend Christmas Day together when Quinn finds out that her mother wants to spend the week at a spa in Palm Springs.<p>

"The only reason she wants to spend Christmas in California is because my sister and her family are spending it with my dad," Quinn comments. She's standing at the counter chopping parsley for the carrots Mike has cooking on the stovetop. "She wants me to go with her and spend the day getting massaged and slathered with mud."

He looks at her dubiously. He doesn't get the whole spa thing anyhow, but especially not on Christmas. "Are you going to go?" He really hopes that she isn't, because he really want to do this thing for her on Christmas Eve. It won't work if she's a thousand miles away.

"No," she says seriously, pushing the little pile of parsley to the edge of her cutting board so she can cut into a lemon. "I'll be staying here."

Mike finishes scooping the roasted potatoes into the serving bowl, then watches her squeeze lemon juice into the carrots. "We could spend it together," he suggests. She glances up at him, then focuses on putting the parsley she chopped into the pan. "If we're both going to be here, we might as well."

"Okay," she agrees after a moment (exactly five seconds after he starts freaking out and three before he says, '_never mind_'). "I'll make those potatoes you like."

He watches her finish scooping the carrots into the serving bowl, then sets his hand on her cheek so he can lean down to kiss her. It isn't because of the potatoes (though they really are good, with cheese and sour cream and this crunchy stuff on top), but because this will be their first holiday together, and he's really happy about it.

He brushes his thumb over her bottom lip gently after he's pulled away, watching her eyes when they blink open. "What was that for?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "You just did a really good job chopping that parsley."

Quinn is always the most beautiful when she's smiling at him.

* * *

><p>It's harder than he expects, finding a church that has candlelight services on Christmas Eve. It sounds like a really beautiful tradition, and he can't believe that there isn't a church in the greater Cincinnati area that does it, though it does start looking that way after a while.<p>

The internet fails him pretty quickly, which is disappointing, but not a surprise, and asking around at work doesn't yield anything helpful. Mike doesn't like leaving things till the last minute. He doesn't know if it's the way he was raised or if it's just him, but he's a planner. With two weeks left till Christmas Eve, he sits down with the phone book and just starts cold-calling churches. Usually the person who answers is a receptionist or some sort of volunteer, though sometimes Mike finds himself actually talking to the reverend or minister or priest. After the first day, he stops prefacing the question with an explanation and cuts right to the point; it makes the calls go a lot faster.

"No, we don't," Father Allen at St. Elizabeth's answers on day three when Mike asks about a candlelight service. "Why do you ask?"

"My girlfriend grew up going to a service like this every year," Mike explains. "I want her to be able to have that again, wherever I have to take her."

"That's very thoughtful," Father Allen comments. "You must love her very much."

"I..." Mike trails off because he doesn't have any idea what to say to that. He thinks he does love her, but he also knows how carefully she guards her heart, and he knows that he has to let her get there first or he'll scare her off. It means that he spends quite a bit of time ignoring the way he really feels so he doesn't slip up one day and do something stupid like _tell her_ he loves her.

But he can't lie to a priest, even if he isn't Catholic.

"Yeah. I think I do."

"I think this is a very kind thing to do for someone you love," the priest says, pausing a moment to let the words just sort of hang there. "There is a church I know of that used to do candlelight services. Cherrywood Baptist. You should check with them and see if it's something they still do."

"I definitely will," Mike says, writing out the name of the church on the notepad he has for exactly this purpose.

When he finds out that Cherrywood Baptist does have such a service, he makes a point of writing down Father Allen's name and the address at St. Elizabeth's. He has a thank you note to write.

* * *

><p>"I don't know what I'm supposed to wear," Quinn protests when Mike calls her on the afternoon of Christmas Eve after she texts him the same thing. "This is why girls don't like surprises, Mike. Because they don't know what to wear."<p>

He chuckles quietly at the hint of _Quinn Fabray_ that sneaks into her voice now. It doesn't happen often, but it never fails to give him high school flashbacks. "Do you remember the dress you wore when we went to that fundraiser?"

"The red one?"

"Yeah. Wear something like that," he suggests. That dress was definitely church-appropriate, and she looked beautiful in it. "I'll be there to pick you for dinner at 6:30."

"Okay," she says simply. "I'll see you then."

He loves surprising Quinn because unlike most girls, she never tries to guess what he's planning or to convince him to just tell her. She just says 'okay' and lets him do whatever he wants to do. She trusts him.

Quinn lives in a little blue house in a quiet neighborhood where, despite being the youngest person on the block by a good thirty years, she fits right in. She's lined the porch roof with white twinkle lights for Christmas and hung a pretty wreath on the front door, and Mike can see her tree glowing in her living room window when he parks the car in her driveway.

Quinn smiles when she unlocks the door to let him in. "Hi," she greets, stepping aside so he can come inside.

He sets his hand on her waist when he leans in to brush his lips against hers. "You look beautiful," he tells her softly. Her dress is black with a sheer overlay that covers her chest and shoulders and falls to her knees from a cinched-in waist, and he can see her gold cross necklace catching the light beneath the sheer fabric. Her hair is curled softly - his favorite look on her - with the sides pulled back and pinned at the crown of her head.

She tips her head back to kiss him again, taking it just a tiny bit deeper than a hello kiss. "Thank you." He follows her into the living room where she has her coat - deep blue and made of a fancy fabric, the name of which he can't quite remember - draped over the back of the armchair. "Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" she asks, letting him take the coat when he reaches for it.

(He's a gentlman, okay? Yeah, he knows Quinn can dress herself, but a guy is supposed to help a girl with her coat, especially when she looks like Quinn does now.)

"First, we're going to dinner," he tells her, watching her hair fall back down over her back. "But the rest is a surprise." A surprise that he really hopes is going to make her happy.

He takes her to a steak restaurant that he knows she loves, even if she's always hesitant to admit it (something about steak not being particularly ladylike). Even though he doesn't usually drink (and he's driving), he orders half a glass of the red wine that she likes so she doesn't have to drink alone, something he knows she hates. Since they usually opt to stay in and cook themselves, it's nice to take her out like this. It feels a little like he's showing her off, and what guy wouldn't want to?

She holds his hand in the car on the way to the church, singing softly with the Christmas playlist he has playing (the one that she put together on his iPod) and looking out the window any time they pass a house that's glowing with lights.

She looks over at him with wide eyes when he pulls into the crowded lot behind Cherrywood Baptist Church. "Mike."

He squeezes her hand gently before letting go so he can put both hands on the steering wheel. "Just trust me."

After he confirmed that this church did a candlelight service, Mike made a point of finding the place to see what it was like. It's on the small side, made of red bricks with a white steeple that rises just higher than the top of the bare maple tree that's to the right of the building. He didn't go inside, but he could still see the stained glass windows that line one side of the sanctuary, the colored panes arranged in geometric patterns rather than the expected Biblical scenes. He'd never really thought about it before, but he thinks that stained glass probably looks really pretty in candlelight.

Quinn is quiet as they join the others who are walking towards the open front doors, her arm brushing against his as they walk. It did occur to him that it could be awkward to go to a church neither of them had ever been to and a denomination that neither of them belongs to, but he figures that Christmas is one of those times when people who don't normally go to church make a point of attending, so they won't really be any more out of place than those people.

He hears her gasp when they get through the front doors so that she can see beyond and into the sanctuary, glowing with the warm light of what must be hundreds of candles. "Mike," she breathes, grabbing his hand.

Mike just smiles and takes the program the guy at the door is offering him with a nod. "Where do you want to sit?" he asks her.

She leads him to the end of a pew near the middle of the church where they're behind a trio of elderly women, each of whom turns to look at Mike and Quinn and smiles before turning back around.

Quinn looks up at him with soft eyes. "This is beautiful."

He wants to kiss her, but it doesn't really feel like the right thing to do in a church. He settles for brushing him thumb back and forth across the inside of her wrist. "It really is."

He's being sincere. The candlelight makes everything look softer (including - or maybe especially - Quinn), and the way that it's reflecting off of the stained glass windows is kind of incredible. It's almost romantic, but not quite at the same time. It feels exactly as special as Quinn made it sound.

The service itself is pretty typical. There are songs (Mike catches himself singing the same harmony in "Angels We Have Heard On High" as he did when the glee club sang the song in high school) and the minster telling the story of the birth of Jesus, going on to talk about the meaning of the season and how to carry the spirit of the season in one's heart every day. It's nice idea, really.

And Quinn doesn't let go of Mike's hand even once until they have to separate to get back into the car.

They're sitting at a stoplight a few blocks away from the church when Quinn leans across the console and kisses Mike hard, sinking a hand into his hair and teasing at his lips a little before pulling back. "I think that's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me," she says, her voice just barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answers, unconsciously matching her volume. "There's still one more thing when we get back to your place though."

She bites her lip, keeping her eyes on his even as she settles back into her seat. "I have something for you, too."

They both kick off their shoes when they get to her house, and Mike takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie before sitting sideways on the sofa facing Quinn. She's lit a few candles on the coffee table, the only light in the room besides the Christmas tree. This time, the candlelight definitely feels romantic.

"You first," Mike says. He wanted to follow through with giving her the same sort of Christmas Eve that she had when she was a little kid, so he got her a pair of navy and white striped Ralph Lauren pajamas specifically to open tonight, even though they're really exchanging gifts tomorrow. (He also has a little box of spritz cookies that he found at a little bakery downtown; he set it on the counter in the kitchen when Quinn was hanging their coats in the closet so he can surprise her with them just before they go to bed.) He watches her carefully tear the paper from the box that has the pajamas inside, hoping that she'll think the gift is sweet instead of being upset with him for bringing up the past or something.

He doesn't quite know what to think when she starts laughing after she gets the box open.

It only takes her a moment to compose herself, and then she's handing him a box that he knows she wrapped herself, with a perfectly-shaped fabric bow and neat creases at every edge. He tears through the paper carefully, then lifts the lid off the box.

He's a tiny bit confused when he sees the rose-colored silk inside, but then he lifts out the little slip of a nightgown and catches up. "Quinn."

She's biting her lip when he looks at her. "I didn't know you were going to do all this," she says, "with the service and the pajamas. I thought it might be fun to start a new Christmas Eve pajamas tradition."

He looks again at the nightie in his hands and realizes that the top part, where it's meant to cover her breasts, is made of some sheer fabric. He can feel the desire stir low in his belly when he thinks about what she's going to look like wearing this. "I really like that idea."

She laughs, leaning towards him so she can kiss him. "Your idea was perfect, Mike. Everything about tonight." She brushes her lips against his just gently. "And I love you."

He pulls away a little, just enough that he can look into her eyes. She's never said those words before - neither of them has - and he wants to be sure he heard her right. "Quinn."

She puts her hand on his shoulder and kisses him again, her tongue just barely grazing his lower lip. "I do," she whispers, leaning her forehead against his.

"I love you, too." It's easy to say it; god, it's easier to say it now than it has been to bite it back when they've had moments like these before. He kisses her again and finds himself mumbling her name against her lips.

She draws in a shuddering breath when he starts kissing along the line of her jaw. "Can we-_Mike_," she breathes when his teeth graze her earlobe. "Can we try my new tradition?" she manages after a moment. He pulls back to look at her, even though her hand clutches at his shoulder like she wants him to stay close. "Just this once."

"Yeah," he rasps, watching her when she stands and pulls him up with her hand wrapped around his wrist.

He just manages to catch the nightgown when the silk starts to slip to the floor.

Later, after Quinn has slipped the silk over her body (the second time), he remembers the cookies that he left on the kitchen counter. They each eat one, sitting on her bed, and talking about the best Christmas gifts they got as kids in the light of the candles that are burning on her bedside table.


End file.
